Je Ne Sais Quoi
by ScarletDeva
Summary: She survived being an advanced child. She survived Hogwarts. She survived the war. The question is, can Hermione survive the humdrum of everyday life? Except... does anything around the Golden Trio ever stay humdrum?
1. Prologue: What Dreams Don't Come

_**Je ne sais quoi**_  
Rating: PG for the moment  
Genre: Drama  
Warnings: None.  
Summary: She survived being an advanced child. She survived Hogwarts. She survived the war. The question is, can Hermione survive the humdrum of everyday life?

**Prologue: What Dreams Don't Come**

She didn't dream anymore. It wasn't the potion responsible though maybe it was at the beginning. These days Hermione simply put on her silk, Chinese pajamas, climbed into the satin cocoon of her bed, closed her eyes and fell into a dark hole.

She woke up in the same position. Always. It was almost as if she died every night and arose into living every dawn along with the sun. Or maybe she never did live again. Though she certainly breathed and ate and used the ladies' room. She wrote briefs and letters, directed her department, worked with her secretary and met with diplomats. She spent her Tuesday evenings with Harry and Ron, had drinks with the girls Thursday night and went to her parents' house for brunch every Sunday. Occasionally she even went shopping.

It didn't feel the same way though.

She remembered being three and reading Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island. Being four and starting school with kids older and cruel sometimes. Being five and being taken under a classmate's wing, Laura's wing, because she reminded her of her sister who she couldn't see anymore because of a bad custody agreement. Being six. Being seven. On and on. Then Hogwarts and magic, oh the magic. And she was no longer just her parents' daughter, or Laura's honorary sister, or even just that smart girl. She was a witch.

She remembered Ron and Harry that first year, earnest and young and hungry for something. Saving Harry from Voldemort year after year. The frantic race to learn EVERYTHING because how else could she keep on saving him... Fighting the war. The almost casual AK's she tossed at mask wearing wizards who spit their hate at her with that word. That word. Mudblood.

That was living.

She could barely breathe those days. Hating and loving and everything so fierce.

Maybe that was it. She was bored.

She had a tidy little house. She was the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. She was a war hero. She had great friends and an adorable goddaughter.

So why did she feel like she was just a floating ghost behind the scenes?


	2. Chapter 1: But What DayMares Do

_**Je ne sais quoi**_  
Rating: PG for the moment  
Genre: Drama  
Warnings: None.  
Summary: Everday life nothing. They were doomed. Doomed she said.

**Chapter 1: But What Day-Mares Do **

It was morning. It wasn't a work morning and it wasn't a parents' house morning. Normally this meant it was Saturday and Hermione would get up early anyway to clean her house, do grocery shopping and maybe even cook a big pot of something so she could eat it all week. It would be efficient if nothing else.

Except she overslept. She knew that as she opened her eyes and saw the light threading through her lace curtains and hitting a spot on the floor that was a lot further into her bedroom than it should have been. She yawned as she slid out of bed and into her slippers.

Hermione was none too pleased with herself at the moment.

She padded to the bathroom, grabbing the clothes she set out the night before off the chair, and grumbled under her breath. Now she'd be behind schedule. And she still had that small but respectable pile of work that she lugged home Friday night from the office.

She washed up, dressed, pinned her hair into as tidy a knot as she could manage and entered her kitchen. After the war, somehow her love for Potions transformed to include a love for cooking. In her more sarcastic moments, she blamed Snape for that extra stone or so of weight she'd put on.

The kitchen was spotless, copper pots and pans hanging off a ceiling rack above the island, dark metal knife handles gleaming from their wooden rack, marble everywhere, dark and neat. Ron claimed it was a very male kind of room. She always just rolled her eyes. After all, he never complained when she cooked for her boys.

She was a great cook if she said so herself. She flipped over the island counter-top to the wooden side and pulled out her chef's knife with a sense of satisfaction that chased away the annoyance of her late morning. As the blade slid smoothly through a potato, she mentally checked on her to-do list. A few hours' late start, but she thought she could manage everything well enough.

She moved the bowl with the potato slices and bent down to open a bottom cabinet when the Floo rang. She narrowly avoided smacking her head into the island and grabbed her wand in her left hand, waving it to allow the connection.

"Uhm Hermione... maybe that's not the best response to the situation at hand." Bright green eyes and shimmering strawberry blonde hair paired with a laughing mouth and a raised eyebrow. This was Hermione's right hand at the office and one of her favorite people in general. Just don't tell Harry and Ron.

"What, Daph?" she asked.

"The knife, my darling, the knife. Don't point that at me," Daphne replied.

A slow but heavy flush stole across Hermione's face and she set the knife down. "Sorry."

"Oh, no worries," Daphne answered breezily. "We have bigger fish to fry, as they say."

"What happened?" Hermione said quickly. Voldemort was gone, but the war left a mess and a lot of bad feelings on all the sides. The department of International Magical Cooperation got to mop up a lot of the spills.

"Oh, you know," Daphne began. "Just Etienne Zabini stirring up the Inter-Fed is all."

Hermione laid her hand on her forehead. "I suddenly have a pounding headache. What happened?"

"Well..." she drawled, "he tied himself to the front column of their quorum house and is publicly claiming the international community is infringing on pureblood rights and treating them like second class citizens." She paused as Hermione groaned. "Now personally I don't feel like a second class citizen but you know the Zabinis."

"If this was just Etienne Zabini, you wouldn't be calling me," Hermione pointed out.

"Well okay. He's being backed by WPR and they're picketing the place. With signs," Daphne admitted.

"WPR? With signs? I think I need to sit down," Hermione said.

"And I was contacted by MEOW," she added.

Hermione mechanically pulled a stool closer and plopped down. "Go ahead. Doom my weekend."

"You better come in for this one. Now. And dress extra sharp."

Before she could question Daphne, the Floo connection was cut and Hermione was left alone in her kitchen with a bowl of raw potatoes and a stone of bad feelings.

She sighed and heated a pan, tossing the potatoes in with garlic before heading back to her room to change. When Daphne said sharp, Hermione went Givenchy. She wasn't much of a clotheshorse but she loved well cut pantsuits. She picked a red one, a power color, and slid into a pair of heels. She hated heels but the status quo demanded it.

She applied a small bit of make-up, sighed as she gulped down her underdone breakfast - who had time to let the potatoes finish cooking? - and Apparated into the office.

Her secretary appeared to be in tears, various associates were rushing back and forth and Daphne was nowhere in sight.

"Marlene," Hermione said in the kind of tone she used with skittish horses, "where's Ms. Greengrass?"

Gulping and hiccuping, Marlene wiped her face with a wad of tissues. "In your office," she stuttered. "With..." and she broke down into incoherence again.

Hermione approached the door as she used to do with every Death Eater abode they once cleaned out, cautiously with her hand near her wand. She opened the door to Daphne in her chair and a blond wizard sprawled in the other one. Daphne's voice was low and pleasant, but the undertone was as close as the calm witch ever got to death threats.

"Hello," said Hermione and the wizard turned.

Malfoy.

"Ms, Granger," he said with every appearance of civility.

"Hermione," Daphne began as she vacated the seat and conjured another one. "You remember Draco Malfoy. He's with the MCA, the Malfoy Consulting Agency, and they're representing the WPR."

Well. This would be the big news then.

Hermione shut the door and took her chair. She used a long moment to study Malfoy. He looked much the same, though he certainly grew into his features a bit. Still looked like a ferret, she decided.

"Mr. Malfoy," and she almost choked over that, "what can we do for you?"

"I'm glad you asked," he replied with a smile that had nothing to do with amusement and everything with I'm-the-big-bad-and-I-will-eat-you. "The Wizards for Pureblood Rights feel justly that as a sector of the wizarding society after the war they have been treated more poorly than the halfblood and muggleborn wizards. My agency intends to help rectify this injustice. We want to make the general public aware of this travesty. We would also like to solicit the cooperation of the Ministry in this endeavor." He paused, clearly enjoying the shocked silence his words produced. "However at the moment, and this is why I'm here instead of with the Minister, our main priority is Etienne Zabini. We want to ensure that the IFW does not intend to seek vengeance on him for exercising his obligation to voice the truth."

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini is interrupting their sessions and causing a public disturbance. If the IFW chose to have him arrested there is nothing we can do," Hermione replied tightly.

"Oh I doubt that," he said. "The British Ministry is widely respected in the international community and if you want to see justice succeed I am sure that you could accomplish it."

Hermione looked at Daphne who twitched her nose ever so slightly.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I promise to look into it," Hermione said with a false smile.

"Excellent. I'm glad we can see eye-to-eye on this," he said and stood up. "I'll be in touch." He offered her his hand.

Hermione froze. Something here wasn't adding up. She stared at the appendage held steadily in the air in front of her. It was pale and well kept, a neat manicure capping long, blunt fingers. He wore the Malfoy signet on his ring finger and his index was wrapped in a silver orobourus. It was somehow fitting.

Daphne coughed slightly.

Hermione struggled to hold back the embarrassed flush as she took his hand with her own and pumped it firmly. He smirked and then lifted her fingers to his lips, the contact lasting barely a second, then spun around, his robes flying up a la Snape, and walked out.

Hermione stared at her fingers. "I think I may have to dip my hand in boiling water now," she said matter of factly.

Daphne got up to shut the door and then turned a glare on her. "What's wrong with you?"

"Uh, that was Malfoy," Hermione replied as she dug around for a napkin to wipe her hand.

"Yeah I know." The blonde huffed and plopped into a chair. "I thought I was through with that crowd. I only see Millie occasionally but the Malfoy-Parkinson clique is one I've stayed away from starting with year one at Hogwarts. Dammit." She swung a small foot at the desk, kicking the leg of it lightly. "Malfoy's supposed to be Parkinson's headache."

"Well, I guess he's ours now," Hermione concluded.

They looked at each other with resignation then, without discussing it, got up to leave.

This day definitely needed coffee.


	3. Chapter 2: Coffee Break!

_**Je ne sais quoi**_  
Rating: PG for the moment  
Genre: Drama  
Warnings: None.  
Summary: A typical girl get together. As if anything they do is ever typical.

**Chapter 2: Coffee Break! **

Hermione ordered the table and Daphne popped out to call Megan and Ginny.

Thankfully they all got cell phones sometime last year when they decided to do a celebration extravaganza in honor of their friendship, got mildly blitzed together and barely avoided branding themselves with matching tattoos. Not surprisingly the tattoo idea came from Ginny. Megan was thankfully, at least in Hermione's opinion, able to get them to go in for matching cells instead. Hermione later played around with some spells and now the little pieces of heavenly connectivity worked in any circumstances and never, no really never ever, dropped the call.

Daphne slid into the chair next to Hermione's and leaned back bonelessly, closing her eyes. "Why do I smell utter disaster?"

"Because our coffee isn't here yet?" Hermione guessed as she redid her bun. Her hair never did learn to stay up for very long.

"Could be it," Daphne agreed. "Don't think me a lush darling but right now I could really use something... stronger in my cup though."

"I've thought you a lush since fifth year," Hermione said. She fiddled with her lace napkin and glanced around absently. She really loved Cafe Cameo. They had gone here religiously since Ginny discovered it on an illicit trip out during her seventh year. It was tiny, though always big enough for all the customers, quaint with its almost antique tea-shop appearance, and made the best damn coffee on this side of the Channel.

"Okay I'm here." A tall, willowy brunette plopped into the seat across the dainty table.

"Hi Megs," Daphne said as she fidgeted impatiently.

Hermione waved half-heartedly.

"Hi Megs? That's all I get?" Megan said. "You two dragged me away from the most fascinating... well never mind. What is it?"

"You'll love it," Hermione said dryly. "Really. But we should wait for Ginny."

"Hello my beauties." The head waiter approached their table with his usual swagger. "What can I do you for?"

Daphne swatted at him with a lazy hand. "You could get me some coffee, Donovan dear. With something extra in it."

"You mean aside from my burning passion for you?" he teased.

"You better not put _that_ in my coffee!" Daphne replied with a straight face.

Hermione groaned and Megan covered her face in her hands.

"Not this again," Hermione muttered.

"Sorry-sorry-sorry," Ginny chanted as she rushed towards them, a bundle topped with a shock of red clutched in her arms. She flopped in the last free seat and tried to catch her breath. A small hand reached out of the bundle, followed by a mischievous little brown eye peering between the flop of hair and the bulky jacket.

Hermione sighed and reached for her goddaughter. Settling the squirming package on her lap she unwrapped some of the layers to reveal a big, gap toothed grin. She tuned out Daphne and Donovan for minute and placed a kiss on the girl's button nose.

"Hi Morganna. Mummy couldn't find a babysitter huh?"

Morganna didn't deign to reply and merely rolled one of Hermione's loose curls around a tiny finger before popping it into her mouth. She liked to eat Aunt Hermione's hair on a regular basis.

"Can I just interrupt for a second?" Megan said quietly.

It was a testament to her subtly pervasive influence that suddenly three women, a toddler and an oozing-sex-as-he-moves waiter all swerved their heads to look at her immediately.

"Donovan, get us our orders please. You know the usual and we would like it now," she said with a pleasant but firm voice. This was the voice that made Megan Jones the best barrister of their generation and it worked its magic now. Donovan nodded, smiled and walked away. "Now, what's going on?"

Daphne and Hermione exchanged looks.

"Well," Daphne began. "I'm sure you heard Etienne Zabini is making an arse of himself again."

"I covered it actually," Ginny cut in. "We're letting out an extra edition just to address that. Breaking news and all."

"Right. Well guess who showed up in our office because this person is now working on behalf of the WPR and championing Etienne's case and, of course, is an arse to top it off?" Daphne said.

"Malfoy?" Megan suggested grimly.

"Damn," Daphne said and pouted. "I guess it was kind of obvious."

"You know what wasn't obvious?" Hermione asked, bouncing Morganna on her knees, and, just as she was about to continue, Donovan appeared with a tray of four, large, china cups and a plate of Madeleine cookies.

"Coffee!" Daphne exclaimed. "Precious liquid of life!"

Megan shot her a stern look as she took her cafe latte. "What were you saying Hermione?"

"Malfoy kissed my hand."

Silence.

Pink elephants running through the dining area.

Well not really but they could have and none of the witches sitting around the table would have noticed.

Silence.

"Let me get this straight," Ginny drawled. "Draco the Ferret Malfoy placed his ever so sacred, pureblooded lips against your sullied, Muggleborn skin. And it wasn't a hallucination."

"Exactly."

"Oh."

Ginny reached for her child and cuddled her close. "It's okay sweet-pea, mummy will protect you from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

"Don't be such a drama queen," Daphne said.

Ginny's eyes rounded gently. "And I am hearing this from... you?"

"Okay children," Megan said. "Is it out of your system now?"

Daphne hid behind her coffee and attempted to look innocent. Ginny only shook her head and relinquished Morganna back to Hermione.

"We need a plan," Hermione said. She attempted to feed Morganna a Madeleine but the little girl remained steadfastly loyal to chewing on Hermione's springy curls.

"Now look I'll be the first to admit that Antigone Windemere scares the bloody hell out of me but why don't you contact her?" Megan suggested.

"Anee is a sweetheart," Daphne said. "You just don't know her."

Megan blinked as she sipped her coffee. "Now Daph, any witch who can turn the blood in my veins into a sluggish river of ice with a look is not a witch I want to know closely."

Daphne sighed. "Fine. And anyway she already knows. She warned me before Malfoy sleezed his way into our office."

"I have a plan," Ginny said. She closed her eyes as she swallowed a bite of the Madeleine and chased it with a gulp of coffee. "My plan is that we enjoy our coffee break then call in the reserves and dig in for the long haul because according to some of the hints I've been getting from my sources, this thing is going to get much bigger than Etienne Zabini making a fool of himself for the millionth time."

The women exchanged looks, which between the four of them was something akin to drunken laser tag, and then simultaneously raised their cups, Hermione albeit very carefully, in agreement.

Peace and quiet, for a half an hour, would be theirs.

They should hold on to the memory well because it wasn't going to be a frequent visitor.

At all.


	4. Chapter 3: Bubble, Bubble

_**Je ne sais quoi**_  
Rating: PG for the moment  
Genre: Drama  
Warnings: None.  
Summary: This is not shaping up to be a good week for Hermione. Or the rest of the world.

**Chapter 3: Bubble, bubble. **

The knock was loud, insistent and repetitive. It reverberated through the spacious if very messy office. However the witch behind the desk did not stir to answer it. She did not appear to hear it as she carefully turned the pages of the heavy tome in front of her. Huffing softly, she shook her head, the badly made bun falling apart into a multi-colored curtain around her face. She pushed back at it impatiently.

"Anee, you bint, open up. I know you've been there since last night and I bet you forgot breakfast. Either open up or I'm calling reinforcements."

She growled under her breath.

"Open up or I'm calling Blaise Zabini and telling him you want his body!"

Indigo eyes narrowed ominously on the door.

"Better yet, I'm calling his mother. I'm sure Mrs. Z. would love to get her hands on the Windemere fortune by proxy."

She sighed and slid from her chair to her feet fluidly. Flinging open the door, she glared at the young man behind it. The large, black framed glasses that crowned his skinny, somewhat geeky look contrasted wildly with the demonic grin on his face.

"What Theo? Do you live to torment me?" she demanded.

He slipped around her and set the tray in his hands on top of the least precarious pile on her desk.

"Eat witch. We have to talk."

Glowering, she yanked a dagger from a sheath at her side. "You want to tone that down? You already owe me for the Zabini remarks, caro, and I really don't want to explain to Daph why you're suddenly pretty, red and ribbony."

It was with obviously infinite patience that he endured the tip of the dagger against his carotid artery - and he should have known it was the carotid because she had explained that to him their first year when he made what she deemed an inappropriate remark about her tri-colored hair. Of course it may have been that if he had indeed moved, he may have been dead within minutes. Unless the tender mercies of Antigone Windemere relented to heal him. And that all depended on how moody she was. His opinion, which was born of years of association with the witch, was that she was exceptionally moody at that moment.

She smirked and replaced the dagger. She eyed the platter and reluctantly took a buttered scone, biting into it. "So what do you want?"

"Lance dropped by. He said the Ministry is doing something you wouldn't approve of."

She blinked as she chewed. "And this is news?"

"In this case, yes," he said quickly.

As he explained, she paused mid-chew. Then she bit down as if the scone bit in her mouth was in fact a Death Eater. Or at least some vital part of a Death Eater. Whom she did not like. A lot.

"Get the profiles and his report together. And have Scott make an appointment with Daph and Granger."

It was Sunday morning and for once Hermione was not getting ready for a visit with her parents. Instead, she was standing next to an impatient Daphne in front of the Minister's secretary.

"The Minister will see you soon, Ms. Greengrass," the man repeated sharply.

Daphne leaned over the table. "Look Timmons, I'm really not pleased about being here on what was to be my only day off this week. And I'm even less pleased to be kept waiting for over an hour. So keep in mind, I'm in International. I have connections in dirty, foreign places. Your continued comfortable existence is not guaranteed."

The man swallowed. "I can't hurry the Minister," he protested at a sudden high pitch.

Hermione sighed and nudged Daphne. "Stop terrifying him. You're becoming more like Antigone every day."

Daphne grinned in what was not a wholly pleasant manner. "You have to admit, she has style."

"Yes but how likeable is her style?" Hermione countered.

"I like it," Daphne replied quickly.

It was probably for the best in general and specifically for Timmons that the Minister's office door swung open.

"Ms. Granger, Ms. Greengrass, come in," Rufus Scrimgeour said.

Daphne was first inside and in a chair, Hermione a step behind her as she took in the Minister's expression. His leonine features seemed drawn, and it may have just been her, but it seemed the tawny mane of his hair was losing the battle with gray.

"What can we do for you Minister?" Hermione asked.

"We have a problem," he said gravely. "I am sure you've heard of Mr. Zabini's... protest?"

His pause gave the witches a chance to exchange a look. Hermione did not particularly approve of his choice of word to describe the event in question, but she kept her face even and nodded.

"I've had several complaints since then from prominent families about the matter. They agree with Mr. Zabini and reference several events to prove his point. This troubles me," he continued. "I would not want to think our Ministry would consciously perpetrate such philosophy."

"Minister, I can't believe that our Ministry is in fact doing so," Hermione said slowly.

"We can only hope and patrol ourselves," he replied. "But that's not why you're here."

Daphne seemed to choke on a cough. Hermione shot her a quick look. She knew Daph was less than pleased with the direction of this conversation. She herself wasn't thrilled. But it was imperative Daph keep quiet.

"Why are we here?" Hermione said.

"In addition to internal discontent, I am getting reports of international reaction to the situation. The Middle Kingdom is making signs of withdrawing from Western affairs if matters are not rectified. The Rising Sun Republic has been subject to protests for over a month from its citizens. Additionally, the United States is very displeased with this turn of events and I've been informed that it is standing by its policies in this regard," he summed up.

This time the silence lasted. Daphne raised an eyebrow. Hermione subtly shrugged a shoulder in return and pursed her lips for a moment.

_Something is rotten in the state of Denmark..._

"Minister, we've seen reports about the two protests in Japan, but the Ambassador from the Middle Kingdom has given every indication the Dynasty is not the least bit concerned with this matter," Hermione said.

"Also, I recently attended an embassy ball at the US consulate and they seem to find the situation amusing at best," Daphne added.

The Minister's face clouded over. "Then you had better check your sources. This is your first priority. I want all our relationships with foreign governments smoothed over till they're silk. Are we clear?"

"Yes Minister," Hermione said hurriedly. She could tell without looking that Daphne was building up to a whole new level of outraged.

"Excellent," he said. "Now I have some important matters to attend to. Thank you for coming in today."

"Of course Minister," Hermione said. Her quickly thrown glare forced a civil nod out of Daphne.

As the door closed behind them, Daphne made a soft sound that would have been appropriate in an angry lioness. Too much association with Gryffindors Hermione thought idly as her mind churned.

Daphne turned her head and smiled at Timmons in an expression that was basically a baring of her teeth. The man shivered. Hermione looped her arm around Daphne's and pulled her into the hallway.

"Emergency meeting?" Hermione said quietly.

"Let's go make the calls," Daphne replied.


	5. Chapter 4: Toil and Trouble

_**Je ne sais quoi**_  
Rating: PG for the moment  
Genre: Drama  
Warnings: None.  
Summary: And now it seems like it's just one thing after another. But maybe they're getting close to some answers. Or maybe Hermione is getting an awful headache. A headache named Malfoy.

**Chapter 4: Toil and trouble. **

The sun was beginning to set, streaking the sky with shades of plum and fuchsia. The business district end of Diagon Alley was almost empty. There were only a couple of witches and wizards in severely cut robes leaving the stately buildings to disappear with a pop. A few stood in line in front of the Portkey station.

Soft echoes of sounds drifted from far down the Alley.

For a Sunday, this could be considered crowded and loud.

Then things really got crowded and loud as the Mason building crackled and exploded, spewing chunks of brick and broken spells all over the sidewalk. A wizard fell out of a window on the top floor, smacking into the ground with a meaty thunk and one of the women in the Portkey line began to keen in shock. Flames licked up from the ground. Even the stone gargoyles seemed to be on fire.

It only took several seconds for the Auror teams to begin Apparating in. They quickly herded remaining people away from the disaster and water spells arced at the flames in brilliant shocks of blue.

"Greengrass, open the fuck up." The voice was unrecognizable through the strangely messed up Floo and the flames were transmitting a distorted blur where the face should have been. Daphne and Hermione set their wands at ready and Daphne flicked open the connection.

Two people tumbled through.

"This wasn't what I had in mind when I told Scott to schedule a meeting," Antigone said dryly. The slight witch looked grim, her face smudged with soot that served to outline her furious indigo eyes.

"Daph, be a doll and get me a butterbeer," Theo groaned and pulled himself to his feet. He slumped onto the blue velvet couch, dirty and ragged, looking distinctly out of place in the dark wood and jewel toned room.

Daphne cast only a quick look at the two of them before rushing out.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"You mean why do we look like war refugees?" Antigone rephrased. She stood and studied her torn shirt, blood seeping scarlet-bright on a canvas of pale skin and dark ash between the jagged edges of the fabric. She winced slightly as she examined herself with careful fingertips. "It's a good question really. And I don't like that I don't know the answer."

"Oh," Hermione said.

"I'm sure you intend on finding out as soon as possible and leave a distinct path of slaughter in your wake," Theo said.

"I happen to have a sincere lack of appreciation for having my employees killed and my building destroyed, not to mention being forced to climb through on my hands and knees to an underground safe-room while dismantling a few dozen complicated spells, half of which are aimed at killing me," Antigone replied.

Hermione's mouth opened slightly. She wasn't quite sure how seriously to take Antigone but she knew the former Slytherin never lied. Still, how could she be so... calm...

Daphne came back in with a silver platter cluttered with potions, fire whiskey and several goblets. She set it down and sighed. "You know where the showers are and I have some of your clothing in the guest garderobe. Drink up, clean up and get back here because it looks like we really need to talk."

As Theo and Antigone did as told, for once, Daphne and Hermione sat down on the couch and looked at each other.

"Is it just me or does this seem like an awfully convenient coincidence?" asked Daphne.

"Well, let's see. WPR is staging a massive PR campaign, apparently entitled Oh Woe is Purebloods. Something fishy is going on in Asia. And one of the most powerful players in international, political arena, the one who has been steadily working on various social injustices since the War ended has been taken out of commission. I don't know what to call it but I'd say we're in trouble," Hermione summed up.

"You forgot Etienne 'Poster Boy' Zabini," Daphne added. "Not to mention our dear old Minister throwing us to the proverbial wolves at the first sign of trouble." She sighed.

Hermione wrinkled her forehead, a thought flittering around the edge of her mind, just out of reach. Then the thought got knocked out clean as a musical tone signaled someone at the door.

Daphne headed to open it, Hermione right behind her, and both were stunned at the identity of the visitor.

"It's lovely to see you two again," Malfoy said. He leaned against the side of the door-frame casually, an eyebrow quirking at the witches' continued silence. "Well, Greengrass, are you going to let me in or have you been completely infected with Granger's plebeian manners?"

"What do you want?" Daphne demanded suspiciously.

He grinned, an expression at once imperious and infectious for its rarity. "Actually I want to talk to the Windemere bint," he replied. "I figured she'd head here."

Hermione grabbed Daphne's elbow just a second too late as the witch pressed her wand under Malfoy's chin.

"What do you know?" Daphne asked darkly, pressing the wand tip harder into his flesh.

He grimaced and raised his hands palms forward in a universal gesture of surrender. "I heard her office got burned down and I wanted to talk to her. It wasn't a hard guess that she'd come here. It was either here or that Gryffindor's place and she would never endanger her future god-baby."

Hermione held out her hand. "Your wand."

As he hesitated, Daphne's expression darkened and her hand nudged forward insistently. Finally he reached into his voluminous cloak and withdrew his wand, gingerly placing it on Hermione's palm. "Here you are, milady." He sketched out a slight bow, his mouth twisted into a faint, one-sided grin.

Hermione blinked in confusion and pocketed the magical tool. As Malfoy proceeded into the house, Hermione studied his profile. There was something off here. He wasn't acting normally. Unconsciously, she began to rub her right hand against her pants. The hand he had previously kissed.

As Malfoy took his first step into the sitting room, Hermione caught sight of Antigone, who immediately spun around, her wand appearing out of some mysterious holster and pointing at the wizard.

"You were always quick to trigger," Malfoy commented with disdain.

"And you always looked better afterwards," Antigone replied with a malicious expression. "Maybe you need a refresher. I could set you on fire again," she offered.

"I have his wand," Hermione said quickly. "He's no danger."

Antigone snorted.

"Okay kids," Theo said. "Why don't we all sit down, have some tea and find out why His Annoying Highness has chosen to grace us with his presence."

As Daphne's house elf, Alda, served the tea and crumpets, a tense silence settled over the room. Malfoy was the only one who was totally at ease. Daphne and Hermione sent quick looks at each other as Theo kept a hand on Antigone's shoulder, who sat at the edge of her seat, her Auror background readily apparent in her position. When Alda left, Hermione coughed slightly and Daphne nodded.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

For the first time in Hermione's memory, his aristocratic features tensed into a serious expression. "We didn't do it," he said.

Silence and confusion followed his statement.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

"The Mason building. WPR isn't responsible," he said. He laced his fingers together deliberately, in what seemed like stalling. "I came here because not only did we not do it, but I think someone is trying to frame us. And... there might be something else going on."


	6. Chapter 5: Through the Looking Glass

_**Je ne sais quoi**_  
Rating: PG for the moment  
Genre: Drama  
Warnings: None.  
Summary: Why did she ever think her life had become humdrum? And why did she ever regret it?

**Chapter 5: Through the Looking Glass **

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Hermione muttered. She pulled a black ski mask over her head and double checked all her pockets to make sure she had her wand and the various charms Antigone gave her. Satisfied, she stepped behind Malfoy, dressed in the same ridiculous ninja-like outfit, and looked at Antigone in anticipation.

"You'll be fine Granger," the other witch said. She checked over Hermione, then Malfoy and finally the last and newest member of the group, also dressed in black, Blaise Zabini. "All set then."

"First sign of trouble…" Daphne called out from the other side of the room as she poured herself a drink.

"I know," Antigone said and threw a handful of powder into the Floo. " Morton Street."

Hermione was in and out last and as always slightly dizzy from the trip. Zabini caught her arm as she wobbled and his eyes, the only available feature of his face, looked like they were smiling.

Antigone tapped on one of the walls of what looked like a rundown room, and a panel popped open, revealing a set of keys, a knife and a small bottle. She packed all three away and headed for the door. It opened into darkness.

"Lumos," Malfoy said and thrust his wand forward, revealing a passage.

"Keep behind me," Antigone said and started down the stairs.

Hermione did her best to walk silently, an easy task in the boots she was wearing, but all that silence only made other things louder. She could hear Malfoy breathing really softly, like a kitten, though she generally liked kittens. She could hear the very faint crinkle she was sure was coming from Zabini though she couldn't figure out what it was. She heard nothing from the other witch but that was expected. During the war, the Order liked to refer to her as the ghost. She wasn't sure how long they walked, some of the passages curving around and splitting, their leader always picking one of them without hesitation.

"Bloody hell," Malfoy exclaimed as he tripped over a scurrying rat and Antigone whacked him with her elbow in the side without turning around.

Zabini snorted.

"Hush," Hermione whispered. She trusted Antigone as far as their safety but better safe than sorry, right?

"No one can hear us in here," Antigone said. But her own voice was soft as a whisper. Finally she stopped, Malfoy almost running into her back. "Turn out your wand." As soon as the light was gone, she opened the door, emerging into a courtyard. She slid along the wall, gesturing for the rest of them to follow her. A few windows were alight but most empty and dark like the night sky above them. She handed Zabini the knife and the key set and pointed at another door a few steps away. He took the lead.

Hermione looked on curiously as Zabini picked a key and applied it along with the knife to the lock. He was whispering something but she couldn't tell the words apart. Little, dark sparks danced around under his hands and then she heard a click. Zabini handed back the tools and stepped back. Antigone was in first and as Hermione watched her go, she pulled out her wand, feeling safer with the slim wooden implement in her hand.

They took the stairs, quietly walking up three flights, then paused as one as a badly off key tune drifted through the open door. Malfoy lifted his hand, about to pull off his mask but Antigone smacked it away. They slipped inside the hallway, pinpointing where the voice was coming from and Antigone slipped away into the shadows as Zabini confronted the guard head on.

"Hey mate," he called out, his voice just loud enough to reach the man.

"What?" the guard said and spun around, whipping out his wand.

It was long enough and from the corner Hermione saw the man go down, knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. The other witch then pulled out a rope and length of cloth, which Zabini and Malfoy took from her, tying and gagging up the guard before depositing him in a closet they found nearby. As they were closing it up, Antigone was already moving down the corridor and Hermione hurried to catch up, doing her best to do so silently.

It seemed none of the occupied rooms were nearby so they walked through without any interruptions until Antigone stopped again, holding out her arm to halt them. She peeked around the corner then dug something out of her bag, a small ball that she touched to her eyes and sent rolling into the unknown. Her eyes closed for a moment, then opened and she held up two fingers.

As previously agreed, they cast their shields now, the magic settling in a buzz on skin. Zabini nodded and took Hermione's arm, pulling her around the other way. Two against four wasn't much of a fight but they wanted to do it quickly so they decided attacking from both sides would be best. They dashed through the corridor, already knowing it to be empty, slowing down when nearing the spot that the map they memorized earlier showed to be the opposite end of the hallway. Hermione touched the coin in her pocket, knowing the spells would now be warming the coins Malfoy and Antigone had to assure them they were in position. Her coin pulsed and Zabini turned to her, hand up. Slowly he unfurled one finger, then a second and as the third came up, they burst around the corner, sending Petrificus spells at the guards who were so helpfully standing in the light.

One went down immediately, the other using his frozen body as a shield as he fired back red tinged spells.

"Infernum," yelled Malfoy, and a gust of flame shot at the man, aimed carefully just a breath away from him. Hermione grabbed his distraction with eagerness, following up with another Petrificus that hit right on target.

"Alright boys," Antigone said and her indigo eyes shone brightly, "take each corner. Granger and I have some real work to do."

They went down the very long hallway side by side, sconces coming alive as they passed and dying behind them. The door at the end was heavy and ornate with brass plating.

Antigone made a sound.

"What?" Hermione whispered.

"Blood magic in the shielding," she said with disgust. "Fucking purebloods."

"You're pureblooded," she pointed out.

Antigone made another sound, a soft, annoyed snort. "Think you can unravel it?"

"I believe so," Hermione answered. She knelt next to the door, her gloved fingers flowing softly over the rusty rune marks. Then she pulled her wand and tapped them in succession. "Basic entry code…" A glowing ball popped out of the door, sharp whites and blues swimming inside it.

Antigone pulled off her glove and pulled out the knife. She dragged the tip over her palm, staining it with her blood, and handed it to Hermione. Then she replaced her glove.

Hermione held the knife almost absently as she examined what looked rather like one of Trelawny's crystal balls. "This is amazing. I don't think I've seen this sort of warding mechanism… well… ever. I've read about it though."

"Save it Granger," the other witch said. "We don't have time."

"Alright," she said and almost with regret began to cut shallow runes into the ball with the scarlet painted tip of the knife. Each rune was the opposite to the ones on the door and as she finished one after another, the colors inside the ball began to change, glowing red and orange like a dying sunset. "Invictus… cognatio… ingressus… libere… honorarius…" she muttered and then as she stabbed the knife deeply into the orb, the Latin words began to run quickly together, indecipherable. Fire crawled through her limbs, pooling in her stomach, sliding through the very air she breathed and exhaled in a chant. She twisted the knife with a violent jerk and then it shot back out, the force shoving her backwards. She felt Antigone's hands on her shoulders, steadying her and then winced as the ball blew up, the light melting into the door.

"Good," Antigone said and that was as effusive as she ever got. "Catch your breath." Then she shoved open the door and walked into the door.

Hermione leaned against the wall, playing with the knife as she waited for her heart rate to slow down and her lungs to stop burning. The former Slytherin's slim form moved around the small room quickly and efficiently as she pulled out scrolls and books from every place she could find any.

"Anything?" Hermione called softly.

"Patience," Antigone replied as she unrolled another scroll.

Hermione laughed under her breath. The other witch wasn't known for the virtue she just mentioned.

"Got it," Antigone said and tied a bundle of scrolls together. "Too easy."

Hermione shrugged as she got to her feet. "Better than too hard."

"Maybe."

They were only a few steps away from the door when the coins began to pulse.

"Shite," Antigone forced from gritted teeth. She handed the bundle to Hermione and pulled her wand, edging slightly ahead. They ran down the corridor, soon hearing sounds of curses shot back and forth. Malfoy and Zabini were herded by six wizards in their direction and several unconscious bodies lay some feet away.

"Jump," Antigone screamed and shot off a spell a moment later. The ground shook, sending some of the newcomers stumbling and she hurtled herself into the fray, moving like hurricane with flames erupting from her wand in every direction. Hermione stayed back, that old battle calm descending on her as she played backup, shooting Ferio spells to shove the wizards away.

Zabini moved next to her as Malfoy lunged forward, slamming into a man who pulled out a sword. They went rolling.

Hermione smiled behind her mask when a man she hit crashed into a wall and fell limply.

Several others were down, scorched and groaning. Antigone continued her assault, blasting another one as she spun around, her elbow crunching into a wizard's nose.

Malfoy kicked his opponent off himself and sprung up. "The left is clear!"

"Get her out of here!" Antigone yelled back. "I got this." Two wizards were left and she was taking aim again.

Malfoy maneuvered back, Zabini guarding Hermione's other side as they escaped for the exit. They could still hear Antigone's voice and the odd crushing sound even as they ran down the hallway.

"Did you get it?" Malfoy asked between dragging in loud gulps of air, taking the stairs two at a time.

"I got it," Hermione said, thankful she wasn't wearing robes. "Is she…?"

"She'll be fine," Zabini replied, his voice low and oddly tense. "She's always fine."

She though Malfoy said something under his breath and it sounded something like… sucker? Anyway she didn't have time to contemplate it anymore than she allowed herself time to wonder how she ended up on this wholly illegal venture with a wizard she hated from childhood, his best friend and a witch who had always made her nervous. As they burst through the doors into the chilly night air, she remembered.

Besides, it wasn't like this was the first time she did something wholly illegal for the best of reasons.


End file.
